


Outta Left Field

by Lhugy_for_short



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: And Prompto hits all the right spots, Completed!!!, Gladio's got a thing for certain body parts, Interactive drabble fill, M/M, Now rated M for Mmmm, Pining, Rated T for Thirst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-18 06:45:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17575883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lhugy_for_short/pseuds/Lhugy_for_short
Summary: Sure, Prompto's annoying, and clumsy, and has already managed to earn himself a lifetime ban from driving the Regalia just two days out of the city.But as Gladio's beginning to discover, he's also really,reallyhard to take his eyes off of.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CrossedQuills](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrossedQuills/gifts).



> In an attempt to write myself out of the block created by the Tumblr void, I opened requests over on Pillowfort. This story will likely span out over multiple short chapters, each prompted by readers like you!
> 
> This first prompt came from CrossedQuills: "how bout Gladio initially finding Prompto kinda annoying but then discovering something about him that immediately makes him question his own sexuality." Aaaand I think that pretty much sums up how this goes.

Gladio doesn’t consider himself easily swayed. He’s a shield, a man of mettle and fidelity, ever steadfast on his path alongside the future king. Years of training, of discipline, have made him immune to distraction. And he’s confident that nothing can make a man like him weak at the knees, no matter how seductively wrapped. 

Which, of course, is how Prompto manages to take him completely by surprise. The blond has been...well, to put it as nicely as possible, the most  _irritating_  part of their trip so far. In the short time since leaving the city of Insomnia behind, Prompto has crashed the car twice, almost blown their cover once, and chatted just about all their collective ears off. Only Noct seems to have the patience to entertain his constant yammering anymore; even Iggy’s taken to tuning him out with the radio. 

But for Gladio, stuck in the backseat next to their narcoleptic prince, there’s no escape except for into his books. And those aren't nearly enough of a deterrent. 

“So. Have you ever killed anyone?” Prompto asks, out of the blue and without any sort of preamble. He's leaning over the back of the passenger headrest again (Ignis has given up scolding him, it does no good), fiddling absently with the screen of his camera. Gladio, though loathe to take the bait, peers up over the pages of his novel. 

“No. And that's a dumb question.”

“The Marshal said there's no such thing. Besides, it's important stuff, dude.” A grin, obnoxious and disarming at the same time. “Feel like I oughta know the kinda guys I'm sharing a tent with, y’know?”

“Prompto, I have never killed anyone.” Then, quieter, “Though there's always a time for firsts.”

The blond either doesn't hear him, or pretends not to. “But, like, you  _could_ , right? If you wanted to? Like, if an assassin was after Noct and you had the chance, you wouldn't hesitate, right?”

“I'd snap their neck with my bare hands,” he says, and promptly rolls his eyes. “That's what you were hoping to hear, right? Why don't you stop worrying about how  _I'm_  gonna do my job, and keep an eye out for trouble yourself?”

“Already waaay ahead of you, big guy,” he grins again, and flashes his camera with lightning speed up at the expanse of blue sky overhead. The shutter clicks once before he's holding the screen out for Gladio to see. “All clear, sir.”

“Great. You’re a real hero. I feel safer in your hands already.”

It's so sarcastic that even Ignis favors him with a chuckle. But Prompto - for all his usually boundless enthusiasm - suddenly seems to hesitate. He blinks once, twice, eyes going rounder and a soft pink tint flushing to his cheeks. “R-really?” 

_So hopeful, so genuine._  Gladio almost feels bad bursting his bubble. 

Almost. 

“No, not really, birdbrain. Now sit down, and stop bugging me. You're worse than Iris.”

Prompto’s disappointment is palpable, but he doesn't bother to argue. His bright blue eyes fall as he turns to face the front. Above the seat, his hair sticks up very much indeed like the tail feathers of the big birds he loves so much. And, with Gladio still watching, he runs his fingers back through it in a familiar nervous tick.

Yet something…is different. Maybe it's the angle, or maybe the way the sunlight hits his locks of golden blond.  Maybe (hopefully) it means nothing at all. But when those pale, delicate fingers brush across the soft hairs at Prompto’s nape, Gladio feels…. 

Well. He isn't quite sure what he feels. A stirring? A sudden lightness in his stomach, one that spreads quickly up into his chest. Prompto’s neckline is  _beautiful_ , how has he never noticed that before? Smooth, freckled skin, fine yellow hairs and those fingers, so strong and yet so small compared to the size of his own digits. 

Gladio’s fascinated. Can’t take his eyes from the sight even as his book drops forgotten into his lap. The inexplicable temptation to reach out, to stroke his own fingertips over Prompto’s skin, holds him captive, hardly able to do more than stare, slack-jawed, for at least another mile down the road. 

It isn’t until Ignis clears his throat that Gladio realizes he’s being watched. Sharp green eyes, somehow judging even in their silence, flash at him from the rearview mirror. They’re gone again just as quickly, but it’s enough to have Gladio snagging back up his book, shaken as he struggles to get the thought of touching Prompto’s body as far from his mind as humanly possible. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gladio's pretty sure he's losing it. First, the neck thing in the car, now he's having trouble keeping his mind off Prompto on the battlefield, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was no specific prompt this time, the story is just kinda going where it wants to go. I'm still very much open to suggestions, though, so feel free to let me know here or on [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/Lhugbereth) what you wanna see happen next!

The thing about monsters, the thing all his Crownsguard training couldn’t possibly have prepared him for, is that sometimes they’re actually  _ smart _ . 

Take havocfangs, for instance. Lean, shaggy, nothing but cold, empty light in their eyes, and yet Gladio had learned the hard way to heed their lonely howls. It meant an ambush, that at least a dozen of the snarling beasts would be waiting for them, and that they would attack with surprising coordination. One from the front, two from the sides, their strategy relying on both speed and sheer impact to overpower their prey. 

And it would probably work, too, if Gladio or any one of them had come alone. But they’re together, and that (in theory) makes them stronger than a pack of monsters any day. 

“Gladio, back me up!” 

“You got it!” 

Noct’s left an opening for him, and he goes for it without thinking. One arc of his broadsword sends a havocfang hurtling through the air, howling and gnashing its maw uselessly before crashing into the rocks. It falls silent - defeated - but the victory is only short-lived. While the prince has moved on to help Ignis out of a pinch of his own, three of the remaining beasts are now circling Gladio just out of reach of his sword.  _ Just great _ . 

When he swings at one, the others close the distance at his back, each of them keeping just out of reach of his blade. All of his attention goes into holding the beasts in his sights. But he knows if they decide to attack together, he’ll be lucky to fend off two at the most. This is  _ bad _ .

It happens without warning. The first hound - the pack leader - breaks the circle and lunges right for him, fangs and talons bared for the kill. Gladio’s sword catches it in the leg, spattering hot blood to the grass but doing little to deter the brunt of the attack. A second charges from the left, faster and more coordinated, and this time it nearly manages to clamp its powerful jaws around his forearm. 

Suddenly, a shot rings out. Loud, close-range. The havocfang drops to the ground and twitches once, twice, then goes deathly still. Again, the thick scent of blood fills the air, its odor sending the remaining two hounds into a snarling fury. Only quick thinking has Gladio turning in time to defend himself - but there’s no need. He merely watches, awed, as Prompto comes sliding in to the rescue with both guns blazing. 

_ Bang, bang! _ Precise shots which fell the beasts in a matter of seconds. He makes it look... _ easy, _ Gladio thinks.  _ He makes it look damn good. _ Those lean yet powerful arms, the fierce shadows cutting across his face, which has split into a grin even before the smoke settles. Their gazes lock. Prompto draws one of the guns up in front of his mouth, blows out across the barrel and Gladio can actually feel the moment his heart leaps into his throat at the sight.

He should...probably say something. A ‘ _ thank you’ _ or a ‘ _ nice shot’  _ or even a cocky  _ ‘I could’ve handled it myself.’  _ But Gladio’s voice isn’t working any better than his brain, still stuck as it is on processing what just happened. Adrenaline mixes with  _ something else _ to keep him rooted to the spot, gawking open-mouthed at Prompto and wondering how in the hell he’d not noticed this before. 

“Yeah, so, uh,” the blond grins, finally breaking the silence with one of his modest laughs. “You’re welcome, big guy.”

It’s an opening, as wide and obvious as the one Noct left him at the start of the fight, yet this time Gladio continues to hesitate. The right words are on the tip of his tongue, but he’s too slow to form them. Prompto’s eyes are already dropping to the ground, his smile already faltering, and before Gladio can get the first syllable out he’s turning away. 

The blond jogs off to join Noctis, who’s searching the brush for hidden items nearby, and makes a point not to look back. 

Gladio groans. First the neck thing in the car, now he’s losing it on the battlefield. How can this be happening? He’s supposed to be the reliable one, the constant, the shield.  _ Prompto’s _ supposed to get on everyone’s nerves, not under his skin. Whatever’s going on, Gladio hopes it’s only temporary. He can ride it out, ignore it so long as no one else catches onto….

Something hits the back of his leg. A well-aimed shot right behind the knee, and he’s sent sprawling ass-first to the ground with an undignified yelp. 

Beside him, Ignis smoothly shoulders his lance. His sharp, green gaze is cast forward, locked where Gladio’s was only a heartbeat before on Prompto’s backside. And he actually, honest-to-gods  _ smirks. _

“Unlike you to let your guard down, Gladio. What would the Marshal say, I wonder, if he knew?” 

For all his bravado, for all his years of training in the most elite force in all of Lucis, Gladio finds himself staring up at Ignis as his blood runs cold. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gladio's problems seem to just keep growing. Now that Ignis knows his secret, will he use the information for good or evil?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, no particular prompt for this one, just setting up some plot lol. Lots of reactions to Iggy in the last chapter, so I thought I'd give him a little bit more of a role this time ;) Thanks for sticking with this project so far!  
> (Also, I know this is currently rated T but this chapter has some swear words and references to sexual content soooo I'll probably bump it up to M sooner or later)

“You fancy him.”

“I never said that.” 

A flash of green above sharp lenses. “You didn’t need to. Pass me the eggs.” 

Ignis’ words usually aren't meant to leave room for argument, and this time is no exception. All day, in fact, he’s been acting as smug as if he’d caught Noctis secretly enjoying vegetables. And once he’s decided he’s right, practically nothing can convince him otherwise. 

Still, Gladio gives him his sourest look as he hands over the mixing bowl. “Prompto is Noct’s friend, and a good fighter when he tries. I respect that about him, that’s all.”

“Don’t forget his backside. You did an awful lot of  _ respecting _ that this afternoon.” 

Gladio’s frown deepens. It's not that he expects Iggy to believe him, of course, but. Well. He doesn't have to sound so damn condescending about it, does he? Whatever he's been feeling for Prompto, whatever screw’s come loose in his head that’s making him act this way around the kid, should be no one’s business but his own. “...You’re not gonna let this go, are you?”

“Probably not.” A pause as Ignis cracks the eggs into the pan of garula meat. “Although, if you’re really so certain of yourself, then you shouldn’t be opposed to a little test, hm?” 

“A...test? Why not. Bring it on.” 

Ignis smiles -  _ challenge accepted _ \- and waves across the camp to where the other two are engrossed in a game of King’s Knight. “Prompto. Could you come here for a moment, please?”

Blue eyes pop up over Noct’s shoulder. “Me? Uh, yeah, sure, Iggy! Be right there.” 

He comes bounding over a moment later, and Gladio’s already starting to regret his bravado. The proximity alone has his guts twisting into knots, aided by the way Prompto’s freckles darken in the campfire light. Up close, he can practically count them; dusting like powdered cocoa across his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, and the sudden temptation to lean forward to taste them is alarmingly strong. 

Gladio forces his gaze away before he can accidentally act on impulse. 

“What’d you guys need?” Prompto asks, cheerful and oblivious as ever. 

“Ah, yes. I was wondering if you could sample some of this sauce for me,” Ignis says, already scooping up a spoonful of the stuff and holding it out. “Something seems to be missing from the flavor, but I can’t decide exactly what.”

“Oh, sure. But, um, why’d you need me when the big guy is right here?” 

Grinning, the blond makes to elbow Gladio in the side - but stops when he catches sight of his grimace. 

“You’re more familiar with spices. Besides,” Ignis smirks, seemingly unable to resist the opportunity. “It seems Gladio and I have drastically different  _ tastes _ these days.” 

_ Cold, Igs. Real cold.  _ But Prompto - being Prompto - buys the answer, and proceeds to play right into Ignis’ hands.  _ Literally _ . 

The blond isn’t quite expecting to be fed like some kind of lazy prince, but as the spoon swoops in he opens his mouth on instinct. Ignis takes his time, allowing Prompto to wrap his lips around the handle, drag them slowly down its length to catch every drop of sauce he can reach. At the explosion of flavor, his eyes flutter closed, and a moan, soft and sweet as a dream, bubbles up from deep in his throat. The whole thing looks (and sounds) less like helping with dinner, and more like something out of cheesy porn. 

At least, that’s how Gladio’s brain so helpfully interprets the scene. A flash of pink - Prompto’s tongue flicking out to catch the last remnants of sauce on his lips - is the figurative icing on the cake; the last detail that has Gladio’s blood draining from his cheeks and pooling much further south in an instant. 

_ Well, fuck. _

“ _ Mmm _ . Tastes perfect to me, Iggy! I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it at all.” 

“Hm, perhaps I was mistaken, then. Thank you for your help, Prompto.” 

“Happy to be of service!” 

The test, as it were, is over. And while Prompto and the sauce may have passed, Gladio knows he has failed spectacularly. Even as he watches the blond walk away, leaving them to rejoin Noct on the other side of camp, he can still  _ feel _ Ignis’ gaze like a prickling of ice up his spine.  _ Yeah, yeah, rub it in _ , he thinks. And yet, for all his teasing earlier, Ignis has yet to say anything now. 

Probably because he doesn’t need to.

For once, Gladio knows it’s time to swallow back his pride. “This is bad, Igs.  _ Bad _ ,” he groans. “What am I supposed to do?” 

“May I suggest you start by talking to him? And here, take this.” He presses a dishrag into Gladio’s palm, that secret smile still playing across his mouth. 

“A towel? For what, my hands?”

“No, your lap. To cover your...amorous intentions. I’m afraid even Prompto won’t be able to miss  _ that _ .” 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following Iggy's advice, Gladio decides to attempt conversation with Prom. It goes better than he ever could have expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm love-love-loving the prompts you guys are sending my way! Someone suggested a focus on Prompto's eyes, and so that's a big theme for this chapter. In the near future, you can expect to see some tent shenanigans, some bare skin, and maybe an unexpected talent involving Prompto's throat ;)  
> Anyway, we're still in PG land for now because I'm enjoying the slow build-up lol

He decides to approach Prompto after dinner. For the better part of the last hour, Gladio’s been eating in silence while the other three chat and joke around the campfire as usual. Normally, he’d join in; but tonight he’s busy thinking of exactly the right words to say once he gets the blond to himself.

Of course, the moment his chance finally arrives, his mind goes traitorously blank.

Ignis stands from his chair to start gathering their empty plates. He whispers something to Noct as he passes, something that Gladio can’t catch but which clearly grabs and _holds_ the prince’s attention. Deep, blue eyes open wide and round. He glances at Gladio, blinks twice, then jumps up and scrambles after Iggy like he can’t escape fast enough.

It’s suspicious as hell, but luckily Prompto manages to miss the entire thing. He’s absorbed, as usual, in something on his camera screen, nearly doubled over with the thing poised in his lap. Every few seconds he smiles or laughs to himself, reaches up absently to tuck an unruly lock of blond behind his ear or (much to Gladio’s thrill) rub his fingers over the nape of his neck.

Gladio swallows back his nerves and scoots his chair closer.

“Got anything good there?” he asks, hoping he sounds casual, friendly, and not like some kind of creep. The deep baritone of his voice is still unexpected, though, and Prompto jumps a hair out of his seat in surprise.

“Hm? Oh, these?” Prompto’s looking up at him now, his eyes a stormy blue in the fire light. “They’re not bad, I guess. Wanna take a look?”

“Sure.” He inches yet closer to the blond’s chair. The gap between them is narrow enough now to see the screen of his camera balanced between his knees, and while Gladio has no problem leaning in to get a better look, Prompto meets him halfway instead. Smiling, he scrolls back to the first shot of the day.

“I snuck this one of Iggy this morning. Hadn’t had time to do his hair yet.”

“Stylish as always, even in pajamas.”

“I know, right?” Prompto laughs, the sound almost shy, reserved. Maybe it’s just Gladio’s imagination, but as he flips through the next set of photos he seems to sink back in his chair, relaxing. “Here’s the diner we stopped at for lunch. And that lady with the broken down car. Oh, and Noct.”

Gladio rests his forearm on the back of Prompto’s chair, subtly brushing his knuckles against the curve of one freckled shoulder. Somewhere in his chest his breath catches, holds, fluttering like the wings of a thousand lantern bugs. Cautiously, he tries pushing his luck. “Just Noct, huh. Got any shots of me in there?”

Prompto goes still. “Um, of you? I-I mean, yeah. Totally, that’s my job, right? _Eheh_. Prompto Argentum, cameraman extraordinaire. You need a photo, I’m your guy.”

The pitch of his voice, the awkward laugh, the speed at which the words come tumbling out of his mouth - those things might have annoyed Gladio in the past. Before he knew Prompto, before he _wanted to get to know Prompto_ , and before he’d experienced first-hand how paralyzing his own nerves could be.

But now he gets it. He understands. And instead of rolling his eyes like he might have before, he finds himself smiling down at Prom’s camera in genuine interest.

“Yeah, you’re my guy,” he chuckles.

For a moment, Prompto doesn't respond. Doesn't even move, save for his eyelids which blink rapidly as if he can't quite believe what he's just heard. But the compliment is a welcome one, and quickly spreads in the form of a splash of red across his nose and cheeks. He spends another heartbeat looking up at Gladio behind him, then scrolls quickly through his camera roll to find the shots he's saved at the back.

“I, um, took this one the other day. Y’know, when we fought those giant spider things.”

“I thought you hated spiders.”

“Heh, yeah,” Prompto laughs. He twists in his chair to give Gladio a better view, not seeming to mind when the hand that, until that moment, had been resting against his shoulder ends up brushing the side of his neck instead. “But you gotta admit, this is a pretty awesome shot.”

It’s a close up. Gladio recognizes his own profile, the fire of battle alight in his eyes and the shadow of his sword cutting across the frame. There are monsters, too, and a blue streak in the background that might have been Noct mid-warp, but it’s clear where Prompto’s focus was when he took the photo. Gladio’s as flattered as he is impressed. “Yeah. Pretty awesome, chocobo.”

An inward smile. “R-really? Thanks, I…. _Wait._ Who are you calling chocobo?!”

If Noctis had been expecting the two to be doing anything other than bickering when he got back, then he’s decidedly underwhelmed. He watches them for just a moment longer. Sighs and snatches up his phone from the chair he’d left it in, and quickly turns to make for the tent - but not without noticing the way Prompto laughs, his smile practically splitting his face as he calls Gladio a ‘giant behemoth turd.’

Noct shakes his head. Looks like Iggy was right - this is a long way from over for any of them.

* * *

“Night, Iggy.”

“Good night, Prompto.”

“Night, sweet prince.”

“ _Mhm.”_

“Night, Gladio.”

Even in the dark of the tent, their four bedrolls squished together tight and illuminated only by the stars, Gladio can still make out the dazzling blue of the irises peering up at him. He smiles. Prompto smiles, too, and tucks his sleeping bag up to his chin.

“...Night, chocobo.”

Despite the chill of the air, despite the looming of yet another day bursting with monsters and imperial ships and fishing in the rain, Gladio feels warmer than usual. It’s a warmth that’s been spreading through him steadily all evening. One that seems to be filling his world with a little more laughter, a little more color, than he’d experienced in a long time.

Yellow.

_Prompto_.

He’s not sure he’ll ever understand where or how or why this all started. But he’s suddenly not afraid of it anymore - whatever _it_ truly means anyway. One thing he knows for certain is that the answer to that question is something he’s looking forward to exploring.

And that he’s _definitely_ going to have to thank Ignis in the morning.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking up next to a certain cute gunslinger, Gladio isn't sure his day can get any better. 
> 
> ...Until he secretly catches Prompto on his way to bathtime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for a delay in posting this chapter! It got longer than expected, plus real life stuff, y'know. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who suggested shirtless Prompto! I hope this doesn't come off as creepy stalker Gladio or anything xD 
> 
> Oh and...sorry in advance (:

The tent flap opens, letting in both a gentle breeze and the golden rays of morning. 

It's the latter that pulls Gladio out of his dreams. Nice dreams, too, he thinks, though already the sweet taste of them is fading from his memory. He peels open his eyes in time to see Ignis (at least, he  _ supposes _ it's Ignis; hard to be sure with bedhead like that) disappearing through the tent’s opening; probably off to start breakfast or at the very least a pot of coffee. 

There's no rush for the rest of them, though. Gladio closes his eyes again, allowing the comforts of camp to lull him back towards sleep; the firm ground beneath his bedroll, the lumpy yet familiar pad of his pillow, the warm body tucked under his arm and curled against his chest, the smell of the dew on the trees and grass outside the tent. 

_ Wait _ . He backtracks, his mind performing several feats of acrobatics in the haze of early morning. A body? But who…? 

Prompto stirs in his sleep. The hand he's got planted against Gladio’s chest flexes, palm and fingers spreading out over the plane of his pectoral through his thin shirt. Blond hair tickles at the base of his throat, and Prompto’s frame shifts under the weight of his arm. 

Panic hits him first. A heart-racing ‘ _ what in Eos happened last night?! _ ’ kind of panic, before Gladio gradually regains his bearings. He remembers dinner, teasing Prompto around the camp, going to bed in separate sleeping bags and then--

That's it. There's nothing else. No explanation for how Prompto ended up so close or how his own body found its way right back around him in turn. Which is perplexing, of course, but still a huge relief. A guilty conscience is the last thing he needs right now.

For Gladio’s next acrobatic feat, he somehow has to disentangle himself from Prompto without actually waking him. Slowly, steadily, careful not to rustle the sleeping bags as he draws his arm back. Holding his breath so as not to disturb those beautiful blond locks tucked practically under his chin. Prompto stirs only once - he yawns, smacks his lips together, and (to Gladio’s relief) rolls onto his other side to go back to sleep. 

But now that he’s wide awake, he might as well get up. Some fresh air and an early start, he thinks, will help to clear his head, so he tugs on the jeans he finds on the floor and (quietly) slips out of the tent. As expected, Ignis is there at the camping table, an empty mug in front of him and a kettle just starting to boil on the stove. 

“Hey. Got enough there for two?” 

“Two for me, yes.” Yet Iggy smiles as he pulls another mug out of storage anyway. “I didn’t expect anyone else would be up this early. Least of all you.” 

Gladio’s only half-listening. The warmth of the morning sun feels amazing on his back, his arms, everywhere it hits, getting him stretching and twisting around as if preparing for an early workout. His mood, still soaring from the evening before, certainly helps as well. “Yeah, right. We can’t all be human alarm clocks like you, but I’m still always up before Noct.” 

“I never realized you set your bar so low,” comes the retort. Even first thing in the morning, Iggy clearly holds little back. “But in fact, I was referring to how...comfortable you looked using Prompto as a pillow. Quite natural, really.”

“Oh.” Gladio brings his arms back down to his sides. His face is starting to heat up with something other than the sunlight. “You saw that.”

“Hard to miss. Although I must admit, Prompto seemed almost as content with the arrangement as you did. Can’t imagine how, with you snoring into his ear all night.” There’s that smile again, the secret one that Ignis reserves for the corner of his mouth. The one that’s more mischief than malice, and maybe even a little bit of pride. “Cream or sugar in your coffee?”

Gladio shakes his head. He’s still fighting back the rush of heat to his cheeks, and the increasingly familiar tightness in his stomach that’s equal parts Prompto and nature’s call. “Neither, but keep it warm for me. Gonna go freshen up first.”

Ignis hums, watching him snatch up his towel and toothbrush on the way to the edge of the rock. “Yes, of course. Wouldn’t want the beast that’s nested in your beard scaring Prompto off now, would we?” 

“Don’t be jealous, Igs,” Gladio counters with a grin. Promising to be back before his mug gets cold, he hops down off the rock and pads his way into the sparse forest behind camp.

* * *

_ Voices _ . He’s zipping up his pants when he first hears them, not far off and definitely getting closer. For a split second, Gladio considers summoning his sword from the armiger; but that would alert Noct, and anyway he’s already starting to recognize the voices.

“... _ make a law when I’m king that says getting out of bed before nine thirty is illegal.”  _

Speak of the royal devil. Gladio reaches for his towel, ready to step out from behind the tree and give the prince the shock of his life. But then there’s a second voice, and the laugh that follows has the shield halting instantly in his tracks. 

“Can you really do that, dude?”

“Sure.”

“Awesome,” Prompto snorts, and  _ now  _ Gladio can see them both clearly. Like him, they’ve each got a towel slung over their own shoulder, and the blond is carrying a whole bag of hair products, from shampoo to gel to spray.  _ Bathtime?  _ Come to think of it, he remembers passing a stream not far from the camp, closer to where they parked the Regalia. No doubt the two are off for an early morning dip on Ignis’ orders. 

Two choices are laid out before him. There’s the sensible one, the one that means going back to camp to drink his coffee and help pack up the tent before the heat of the day sets in. And then there’s the other choice, the temptation of following Prompto to the banks, of watching him undress and seeing that freckled skin on full display beneath the light of the sun. 

He wrestles with the decision for a moment longer, just long enough for Noct and Prompto to stroll past still laughing and goofing around none the wiser. It’s too good an opportunity to miss, he thinks. And besides, there’s a good chance his own name might come up in conversation while Prompto thinks no one is around to hear. 

The stream is only a few more minutes walk from the edge of the woods. There, Gladio makes himself comfortable behind a large stone, and listens for the sound of feet splashing in the shallow water. Noct laughs - followed by a shriek from Prompto - and Gladio peers over the edge of the rock in time to catch the blond’s clothes go flying past his head. 

“Stop worrying so much and just dive in.”

“Dude! That was my  _ good _ shirt.”

“We’ll get it back,” the prince says, slapping his friend’s bare shoulder. “ _ After _ a bath. I’m not suffering alone ‘cause you’re too shy to get naked.” 

Whatever Prompto mumbles in reply, Gladio doesn’t catch. But he does pick up the shirt that’s landed by his feet, brushes the dirt off, and helpfully lays it out over the rock for an easy find later. More importantly, though, is the sight playing out in front of him. While Noct is already down to his boxers and knee-deep in the stream, Prompto is still attempting - with a laughable lack of coordination - to step out of his pants  _ and _ keep the rest of himself covered at the same time. The effect is that by the time he’s undressed, he’s covered in more dirt than when he started, and Gladio’s seen just how limber his limbs can be. 

_ That’s _ certainly a prospect he’s never considered before. Neither, actually, is the shape of Prompto’s ass outlined in his boxers (a lime-green cactuar pattern probably intended for children), but once he’s seen it, his mind refuses to let the image go to waste. 

“So. Is what Iggy told me true?” Even from a distance, Gladio can make out the smirk growing on Noct’s face as he lathers bubbles into his hair. Prompto, still shivering in the thigh-deep water, doesn't look up.

“Is  _ what  _ true?”

“Y’know. You…and the meathead.”

_ Oh?  _ Tucking the mental images of Prompto’s posterior away for later, Gladio is suddenly and intently focused on  _ listening _ as much as he is looking. 

The blond shrugs. “Dunno what you mean.”

“C’mon, you mean you two  _ weren't  _ flirting last night?”

From behind the rock, Gladio can't help but crack a smile. If even Noct noticed, it must have been pretty obvious on both sides. Good to know he hasn’t been misreading the situation.  

Yet Prompto hesitates with his answer. He lathers his arms, soap so fragrant Gladio can almost smell it from where he hides. “Flirting? No way,” he says at last. “We were just talking. It's not like that.”

Even Noct seems surprised. “Seriously? Iggy’s not usually wrong about stuff like this. He really thinks Gladio has a…thing for you.”

“C’mon, that’s  _ gross _ , dude,” Prompto laughs, and each one feels like another nail in Gladio’s chest. “That’s like...like  _ me  _ having a crush on  _ you. _ Or  _ you  _ having a crush on  _ Iggy _ .” 

“Haha... _ ha… _ . Y-yeah. Totally weird, huh?” 

Noct says something else, followed by more laughter and the sound of water splashing. But it’s all fading into the distance. Gladio ignores the burning in his eyes, the scratch of brambles against his arms and face. He doesn’t even care about going back for his towel, thrown to the ground at the base of the rock where he overheard it all. 

None of it matters. Nothing except getting back to camp, packing up, and hitting the road so they can get this ridiculous trip over with as soon as possible. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heartbroken, but still unable to shake his feelings for Prompto, Gladio's about to face his biggest challenge yet.
> 
> Sitting in the car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay this time! I've got both this chapter AND the final one finished, but you're all going to have to wait until tomorrow for the ending ;) It's a Valentine's Day surprise!
> 
> Thanks to everyone who's left comments and participated in this project. You guys...are the best *heart*

The sea is a splash of orange, pink, and violet, a perfect reflection of the cloudless sky above. Both stretch outward, reaching for the ends of the world until at last they meet, blending together upon the distant horizon.

The sight is a breathtaking one, to be sure. Even Ignis is pulling his eyes off the road ahead from time to time to take in the view. But unlike the rest of his companions, Gladio’s attention is focused on the book open in front of his face. Not, in fact, to read, but as a distraction from the constant _click, click_ of Prompto’s camera shutter, as if somehow ignoring the blond can ease the heaviness settled smack dab in the middle of his chest.

That weight’s been there ever since morning; since he’d returned to camp with a tight frown and a short temper, unable to forget what he’d overheard back at the stream. He’d skirted Ignis’ questions, and spent the rest of the day keeping himself busy, mostly in an attempt to avoid eye contact with everyone else. It had worked, too - at least until the sun dipped beneath the edge of the trees and brought an end to their adventures for the day.

Now, sitting in the Regalia just an arm’s length away from the one person he’s been trying to forget about, is almost unbearable. Hiding behind his book is an act of desperation, a last ditch effort to block out the sight of freckled cheeks tinted amber in the light.

His hearing, unfortunately, still works just fine, though.

“Gorgeous,” Prompto sighs, and Gladio feels his own face color. “I can’t believe we used to miss out on this kinda stuff back in the city, y’know? The ocean, the sunset….”

“We could see the sunset back home, too,” comes Noct’s reply, words half-muffled by his hand where he’s resting against the car door.

“ _Yeah_ , but not like _this_ . This is….” He pauses. Makes some gesture with his hands that Gladio can’t see from behind his book, and sighs again. “ _Wow._ You get me, don’t you, Ignis?”

“The beauty of nature is indeed quite befuddling at times.”

“Uh. See? I’m totally starting to understand why the big guy likes the great outdoors so much. Right, Gladio?”

_Oh, no. No, don’t--_ Too late. A pair of bright, blue-and-violet eyes appear over the edge of the pages he’s had open for the past ten minutes. Smiling, curious. Warm. It takes every ounce of restraint he’s got in his body to ignore looking directly into them, and pretend to keep reading while Prompto watches.

“...Gladio?”

“Leave him alone, Prom. Can’t you see he doesn’t care?”

There’s a hint of...something in Noct’s voice. Anger? Disgust? But then he turns his back to both of them and curls up in his seat for a nap. Prompto is getting nervous. He chews his lip, eyes studying Gladio almost imploringly for a long moment, but the die is already cast. When the response still doesn’t come, he reluctantly sinks back down in his own seat up front.

His camera, too, falls quiet for the rest of the drive.

* * *

It’s Ignis’ idea to stop at the Burbost Emporium in Callatein for the night. Although it’s still early - nightfall is at least another hour off, plenty of time to make it to Caem if they wanted - the tense silence of the car ride has clearly taken its toll.

With the Regalia parked and the caravan rented, Ignis and Prompto take it upon themselves to get their sleeping prince inside for some proper rest. Gladio chooses to hang back. He unloads the bags from the car, tossing them as far as up the steps of the caravan but going no further himself. Prompto or no Prompto, he’s still not in the mood for conversation, and thinks it might even be best if he spends the night alone outside.

He’s just getting settled into one of the plastic chairs under the awning when the sound of his name catches his attention. From the door, a head pops around the corner, and Prompto offers a sheepish smile. “Gladio, there you are. Hey, Iggy said there might be some snacks at the shop. Thought you might be hungry. Any chance you...wanna…?”

But Gladio is already walking away. Heading not, as Prompto might have hoped, in the direction of food, but away from the caravan and the rest stop entirely. Back onto the road and toward the slope leading down to the Falls, where dusk has left the path flooded in shadow.

Anger fuels him on. Anger at Prompto, for not being able to take a damn hint. Anger at Iggy and Noct, who couldn’t mind their own business and just let this whole thing blow over, sans meddling. But mostly, he’s angry at himself for not having the right words to say. For acting like a child instead of facing his problems, and for holding onto the pain that’s gripped his heart since morning. Even now, as he stalks further and further away from camp, he can feel the blond’s gaze still watching him. And _gods_ Prompto deserves better - an explanation, an apology - _anything_ but this.

Knowing that still doesn’t stop him. Not until he’s at the base of the hill and can hear the rush of the waterfall upstream. In a way, it’s calming. Despite the approach of night and all its dangers, he’s finally found someplace he can be alone to think. Or, rather, _not think_ , as the icy water hitting his face is quickly helping to cool his head. Another splash, and another, concentrating on the flow of it through his beard, down his chin, dripping onto his chest where his shirt is undone.

It’s soothing. It’s refreshing. It’s--

_Footsteps._ Gladio whirls away from the stream, ready to reach into the armiger and summon his broadsword at the first sign of a threat - but there’s no need. The boots stomping across the grass belong to Prompto, not a demon, though Gladio isn’t quite sure he wouldn’t have preferred the latter.

Though the blond is smiling, his body language as he crosses the clearing is harder to read. He’s got his arms around his chest like he’s cold (or anxious), and he’s slouching noticeably more than usual. Something, it seems, has him on edge. “H-hey, big guy. Finally found you.” _Ah,_ yeah. There it is, the tightness in his voice that means he’s fighting back tears. “Thought you’d run off or something.”

“Uh,” Gladio starts eloquently. “No. No, I just….”

Prompto continues as if he hasn’t heard him. “You remember the last time we came here? Can’t have been that long ago - couple weeks, maybe? And there was that _huge_ freaking snake thing, like, literally _right here_.” He laughs, all nerves and awkward twitches in the corner of his mouth. “That was...pretty crazy, huh?”

“It was…. Yeah, crazy.”

“I mean, fighting sucked and stuff. But I’m really glad it’s dead now. We’d be so screwed if another one showed up and we had to take it on by ourselves, y’know?”

“Prompto.” Blue eyes snap to attention in the failing light. The blond’s mouth purses shut, instant silence following in its wake. Gladio takes a long moment to look at him - _really_ look, now that his chest isn’t feeling quite so knotted up - and he tempers his voice to speak again. “You shouldn’t have left camp. Why did you follow me?”

His eyes grow impossibly sadder. “I just...I wanted to spend time with you. You seem like you’re, um. Upset about something. At me. Did I...do something wrong?”

Gladio doesn’t know how to answer that. Of course Prompto’s done nothing wrong; there’s no crime against unrequited feelings, after all. But then how else is Gladio supposed to excuse his behavior all day? All _week_ for that matter, because he’s gone from disinterested to almost creepily obsessed to icy cold without any kind of explanation. It’s no wonder Prompto is so confused - or how he’s managed to remain so oblivious the whole time.

“I’m not upset. Not at you, anyway.” He shrugs, but Prompto is far from satisfied.

“Why do you act like it, then? We were starting to hang out more, I was starting to really l--”

“It’s not that simple,” Gladio lies. “Something’s...changed. With me, I guess. The way I see you.”

“S-see me?”

_For the love of…._ This isn’t getting him anywhere. It’s time, at long last, to stop running. Once again, the familiar heat in his chest is rising up to his throat, his face, and he hopes to the gods the evidence of it isn’t visible in the dim light. “Yeah. I mean...is it really so gross to fall for a friend?”

In the silence, it’s almost laughable how clearly he can see Prompto’s gears turning. The realization, the shock, the disbelief - they all flash across his face in comical succession, one after the other to leave his cheeks a healthy shade of crimson by the end. His mouth, too, seems to have stopped functioning, and his lips open and close uselessly - not unlike one of Noct’s fish fresh from the pond.

But if he _is_ working up to saying something, he never gets the chance. Out of nowhere, a rock the size of Gladio’s fist comes hurtling through the air to crash land at their feet. It misses them - barely - but another one is right on its heels. This time, the stone’s sharp edge catches Gladio in the shoulder, ripping through the leather of his shirt and sending a stream of blood gushing down his arm.

“Shit!”

“Gladio, look!”

He doesn’t need to see them to know what they are: Shieldshears, larger than life and fiercely territorial. Already, the angry _scritch, scritch_ of their chitinous legs on the rocks tell him there’s a whole cluster of them. _Great_.

“Prom, get behind me.”

“What?! Are we seriously gonna--”

“You got any better ideas?”

The gigantic crabs are closing in fast, already grouping together between them and the only exit back to the road. They’re stranded with no backup, and the sun has all but set. Things are _not_ looking good.

Gladio’s arm catches the grip of his shield just in time. With a flash of blue it appears from out of the armiger, slamming into the ground and blocking yet another barrage of stones aimed right for their legs. Behind him, Prompto fumbles with the bullets of his pistol.

“Oh _man_ , talk about timing,” he groans. “I was totally about to say something all suave and romantic and stuff.”

“Save it. I wanna hear everything later.” Despite himself, Gladio smiles - _actually_ smiles - over his shoulder, and with that the battle begins. He switches to his sword and rushes the monsters, jumping out of the way of their massive claws and getting in hits between. Prompto keeps to his six, firing away at hard shell until, with a satisfying _crunch_ , it cracks into pieces, giving Gladio precisely the opening he needs.

It isn’t long before two of the things are felled. The rest are chittering nervously on the edges of the battlefield, and Gladio takes the opportunity to catch his breath. “Prom, you alright?”

“Never better!”

“Think you can take a few more?”

“Way ahead of ya, big guy!” The blond, it seems, has taken the few seconds of reprieve to do more than rest - he’s traded his pistols for one of the huge blaster guns Cid put together. With, it seems, a few modifications by Prompto himself. He steps forward wielding the machine in both hands, and adds with a cocky grin, “I think it’s time _you_ got behind _me.”_

There’s a joke to be made there, but Gladio doesn’t have the chance. No sooner has he scrambled out of the way than Prompto’s firing the thing up, rapidly launching a series of massive photon balls toward the crabs. Upon impact, they burst with energy - louder and brighter than any thundara blast Gladio’s ever seen - and powerful enough to leave all of the monsters stunned.

This time, they both charge together. Sword swinging and guns blazing, they take out the remaining cluster in minutes flat.

Prompto whoops. Gladio whisks his sword back into the armiger with a flourish of blue sparks, and holds his arms out just in time to catch the blond as he goes flying into them. “We did it! We did it, Gladio! That was _awesome_!”

“Are you two alright?!”

“What the hell happened?”

Ignis and Noct are racing down the slope now, drawn either by the armiger’s magic or the booming of Prompto’s gun, or maybe both. But they’ve arrived too late for the glory; the battle is already over, and they stop to take in the sight of the defeated Shieldshears almost in awe.

“Guys, you shoulda seen it!” Excitedly, Prompto hops down from Gladio’s embrace, arms flailing. “There were all these crab things, and Gladio was like, _BAM_ , and I was like, _BOOM,_ and they were all like, _hss-kryaa!_ ”

“Yes, I’m sure it was very thrilling,” Ignis says, shaking his head. “But what were you two doing all the way out here? You could have been attacked by something far worse than angry seafood.”

Gladio shrugs. Steps closer to Prompto, and lays a heavy arm around his shoulders. “I dunno, Igs. I think we woulda been fine. We make a pretty good team.”

Almost shyly, a pale arm slides around his waist in turn. Blue eyes lift to meet him, shining as bright as Prompto’s smile as he nods his head in agreement. “Yeah. We totally do.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the air cleared, it's time for Gladio to be honest with Prompto - and himself - about how he's been feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! The conclusion to what has turned into a really fun, really writer's-block-busting project. Thanks again to everyone reading and leaving comments!! I hope you enjoy the rest of the story ;) 
> 
> Also...stay tuned at the end for an Ignoct BONUS!

For perhaps the first time that night, Prompto doesn’t argue with Noct about who gets to share bed space in the caravan. He offers that honor to Ignis instead, adding with a sheepish smile that he and Gladio will be just fine on the sofa in the other room. They have lots to talk about, after all, and there’s no time like the present. 

The blond is sitting on the couch when Gladio returns from the shop. He’s got two cold beers, one in each hand, and as he settles down in the seat next to Prompto, he passes one over with a grin. “You’ve earned this. Good job out there tonight.” 

“Thanks. You weren’t too bad yourself.” A soft laugh. Prompto clinks the bottom of his bottle against the one Gladio’s holding, then drains a third of it in one go. Either he’s really thirsty, or he’s gearing up with some liquid courage. 

Personally, Gladio hopes it’s the latter. “So, uh. Now that we’re not being attacked by giant crustaceans,” he starts, pleased with the way Prompto’s freckles darken against his blushing skin. “You maybe wanna finish our conversation?”

“H-hm? Yeah, yeah sure. Um, where were we, exactly?” 

“Well, to recap, I’m pretty into you and I’m sorry for spying on you yesterday at the stream. I’m  _ not  _ sorry for checking out your ass, though, so don’t expect an apology for that one.”

“You’ve got a real way with words, y’know that?” 

“So I’ve been told.” Face stretching into a smile, Gladio lets the rest of his body recline back against the cushions of the sofa. His arms are nearly long enough to reach from one end to the other as he settles in - something that Prompto apparently takes as an invitation. He’s warm and soft and solid all at once, but having him curled up so close is a welcome surprise. 

“I guess that makes it my turn, huh?”

“Mmhmm. I think you were going for something ‘suave and romantic and stuff’ - right?” 

Prompto swats him on the chest, then lets his hand linger there while he searches for the right words. “Well…. I’m definitely not suave or romantic, or anything cool at all really. But I guess, if I’m just being honest, I’ve liked spending time with you lately. I like when you pay attention to me, and when you listen to me, even if I’m saying something dumb. I like fighting big ass crabs with you, and sitting on this couch drinking with you, and...well….” 

“Yeah?”

“I guess, I kinda, sorta, really like you, too.” 

It’s as if Prompto’s words have undone the knot that’s been twisting and churning in his chest for a week. Gladio suddenly feels so light, lighter than air, like he could float up to the ceiling and right out of the caravan if the blond’s fingers weren’t still holding him down. He’s glad for those fingers, though, and for the weight of Prompto pressed to his side. He’s glad for the smile he earns when his own arm slides off the back of the sofa and around freckled shoulders instead. And he’s glad that Prompto saves him some of the work by leaning up to meet his lips halfway in a timid kiss. 

Gladio doesn’t consider himself easily swayed. It takes a lot of force to sweep a big guy like him off his feet, which is part of why his feelings for Prompto have taken him completely by surprise. The kid’s come at him out of left field, hitting him fast and hard and leaving a mark that’s gonna last a while - and that much he’s counting on. Because as he carries Prom down onto the sofa beneath him, feeling him smile yet again into the kiss, he knows this is special. It’s gotta be. 

After all, there’s not much else in the world strong enough to leave him as breathless as Prompto can. 

 

 

* * *

 

“ _ Psst _ . Hey, Iggy. C’mere, come check this out.” Noct’s voice is barely above a whisper in the dark room, but he has good reason. Beyond the door, which is cracked just wide enough to spy out at the rest of the caravan, Prompto and Gladio are unaware they’re being watched. One false move, one creak of the hinges, and his entertainment for the night is over.

From the bed, however, Ignis merely sighs. “I’m sure you’re going to tell me all about it anyway.”

“Oh,  _ man.  _ They’re totally making out, I can’t believe this.” The prince leans forward another inch, his face pressing awkwardly against the door just to get a better view. “Woah, Prom just put his hand on Gladio’s  _ ass _ ! I didn’t think he had it in him.”

“Highness, give your friends some privacy and  _ please _ come to bed.” 

“But, Iggy….”

“Noctis.” 

Carefully, holding the handle down so the latch won’t disturb the amorous pair on the couch, Noct closes the door and slinks toward the mattress. His pout doesn’t last long, though. Not with Ignis waiting for him, blankets already warm and inviting. Not with the arms that fold out to accept him, drawing him back to rest against bare skin. 

“There’s no need to be jealous, you know,” Ignis hums. The puff of his breath tickles Noct’s ear, makes him shiver despite the comforting heat that surrounds them both. 

“I know.”

“If you want to cuddle, all you need to do is ask.” 

“I know,” Noct says again, though his voice is softer now, and his focus switching to the hand moving down his side. Beyond the door of their room, a low moan - Prompto’s - wavers in the air.

“Would you like me to continue, Highness?” 

A nod, subtle but indisputably  _ yes _ . He feels Ignis’ lips curve when they brush across his nape, and those fingers slide down to trace the hem of his sleep pants instead. “On or under, love?” 

“What do you think?” As Prompto lets out another muffle cry from the living room, Noct turns over his shoulder to meet Ignis in a kiss. For once, he smiles, they won’t have to be quiet tonight. 

**Author's Note:**

> Wanna see more? Drop a comment over on [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/Lhugbereth) (trying to liven the place up!!!) or here on AO3. Let me know what you'd like to see happen next!


End file.
